


A Lovely Night to Kill

by Fandoms_Everywhere_United



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Allura's the one that dies, Alternate universe - Mafia, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Poisoning, Shiro's in the mafia, not really major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Everywhere_United/pseuds/Fandoms_Everywhere_United
Summary: Shiro wore a tux the night he was going to kill Allura.She was perfect, pretty, tall, everything a man would want out of a woman, but she was also the leader of the Altea Mafia.  Their organization was a direct competitor to the Voltron Mafia’s territory, and she needed to die.





	A Lovely Night to Kill

Shiro wore a tux the night he was going to kill Allura.

She was perfect, pretty, tall, everything a man would want out of a woman, but she was also the leader of the Altea Mafia. Their organization was a direct competitor to the Voltron Mafia’s territory, and she needed to die.

As soon as the first slow song began to play, her drink would be poisoned. With her death, Voltron would be able to expand their territory to the rest of the city. Shiro would win. End of the story.

Shiro accepted another drink from a passing waiter, sipping the champagne before he literally ran into someone. The impact caused the alcohol to slosh over the rim and onto his shirt.

“What the heck, dude?” he spat, stumbling backward into a table behind him. He looked at the man, _boy_ , Shiro realized, because he couldn’t have been older than 17.

The kid looked at him with wide eyes that flitted to Shiro’s lapel and the champagne darkening the black fabric. “S— sorry, I wasn’t— wasn’t looking.”

Shiro looked down at him, the fingers of the prosthetic curling around his drink. “Yeah, _obviously_.” He set the glass on the table, grabbing a napkin to clean the mess up.

“Here, let me help.” The kid grabbed the napkin from him, his hand touching the metal of the prosthetic. He dabbed the spot gently. “Sorry again. I should have looked out for you.” He bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth.

Shiro watched the slight movement that betrayed the other’s age with a smile. “It’s fine,” he said, grabbing the napkin back from him. “I’ll just send it to the cleaner’s tomorrow.” It wasn’t like he didn’t have dozens at home.

He shook his head. “I’m still sorry. I’ll make it up to you!” His face lit up almost immediately, and he held his hand out for Shiro to shake. “My name’s Lance!”

For a split second, that self destructive part of his brain that he tried to hide urged him to share his last name. That same part that urged him to take down numbers of cute people he had made. The same part that urged him to ask for Lance’s number. But that would out him immediately. “Takashi,” he said regretfully, smiling and taking Lance’s hand.

“Are you a dancer, Takashi?” he asked, his eyes impossibly bright as if they were willing Shiro to say yes. Against his will, Shiro nodded, and Lance’s smile grew to envelop his whole face. The hand holding his own started pulling him through the crowd to the open dance floor. “Dance with me, and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Is the dance the make-up for the champagne, or are you granting me the power of two favors over you?” Shiro asked cheekily, but he still gripped Lance’s waist with one hand and his hand in the other.

Lance shrugged. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, big guy.” He smiled again, blindingly white. “So, what brings you to my sister’s party?”

It was lucky that Lance had to spin away from him for a second because Shiro froze in his spot. By the time Lance was back in his arms, Shiro had managed to compose himself half-way. “Your sister?” he asked, turning to the side to cough.

He nodded enthusiastically, the rest of his body joining in on the motion as he seemed to bounce up and down. “Yeah, my sister Allura. She’s amazing.”

Shiro _really_ should have stopped and left Lance then. He really _really_ should have. Instead, something held him tied to this place, his hands glued to the person in front of him. “Allura’s your sister?” His voice did not break in the middle of that sentence, and anyone who said it did was a liar.

Lance either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he started to ramble. “Yes! Well, technically she’s my step-sister, but she’s absolutely wonderful. Her family adopted me after my birth family died in a house fire, and when I was a kid, I would ask her for help on my homework all the time. She’s incredibly smart and then she runs events like these: non-profit charity dinners that all the rich people go to for their taxes and then she can turn around and donate to nursing homes or orphanages.”

He breathed in deeply then sighed, his head resting on Shiro’s shoulder. “I love my sister.”

Shiro swallowed thickly, his mind racing faster than his feet would convey. The worst part was that Lance didn’t stop after that. He went on about how she learned CPR and became a lifeguard after their dad drowned. He went on about how many hours of community service she had done, even after high school. He went on about how she was the first person he came out to, and that’s why he was so confident in his sexuality.

He never seemed to stop, and Shiro… Shiro was sweating because suddenly, Allura’s death seemed like such a bad plan. He remembered staring at the twin gravestones in a cemetary, staring back at him with their matching last names, and he knew what it would have been like for Lance.

They were counting down to the first slow song of the night --three more songs.

Three more songs and Allura would be poisoned.

Three more songs and Shiro could add another tick to his list of bodies.

Three more songs and Lance’s world would come crashing down around him.

Shiro could stop it; he could save Lance from the heartache and the pain of losing a family member, especially one so talented. He still had time, but Lance had steadily gotten closer to him throughout the songs. At one point, their bodies were so close Shiro could hear the rustle of fabric against each other, even with the swell of the music in his ears. He tried to pull away several times, but there was no way to say, “let me go, I need to tell my men not to kill your sister.”

So he stayed.

Knowing that it was going to crush Lance. He stayed.

Did that make him a bad person?

The band announced the beginning of the first slow song, and Lance held him close, refusing to let go. They moved together through the crowd, looking for Allura and her deadly drink. He saw her take a sip and knew it was over. The warning he was about to shout would be too little too late.

So he watched.

And watched.

And watched.

With Lance’s head against his heart, listening to the steady beat with no knowledge that the man he was dancing with had just killed his sister.

“Allura!” someone screeched, breaking the serenity of the song. The band went silent after one of the violinists heard and the scream of the string cut through the remaining chatter.

Lance’s eyes snapped open against Shiro’s chest, and he pushed himself away, frantically searching for who had screamed. There was a ring of people steadily growing around one of the tables, and Lance rushed off to it, his hand yanking Shiro’s wrist through the crowd and hoping that his body would follow.

“She’s my sister!” he yelled, cutting through the throughs of people and rushing to the front; Shiro breached right behind him revealing…

Regret.

She had fallen to the ground. The milky whites of her eyes were exposed as they rolled backward. Her body was still convulsing and there was a white foam coming from her mouth. Someone had tilted her on her side so that she didn’t choke, but even as they watched, the twitching of her limbs was starting to subside.

Shiro knelt down at her side, placing his fingers into the pulse point on her neck. Desperately wanting there to be something there --for Lance, not for him-- but there was nothing that he could find. He tried again, pressing further into the warm flesh, searching deeper.

Below him, Allura stopped twitching, her body going still.

“No!” Lance screamed, falling to his knees next to Shiro, pushing his hand away and searching for a pulse on his own. “No! She was just… I did her hair _two hours ago_! ‘Llura!”

Tears splattered against her skin as he hovered over her. “Lance,” Shiro breathed, putting his hand on Lance’s shoulder.

He shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand and he pushed his way back out of the crowd. “I think I’m going to be sick,” muttered, clutching his stomach with his other hand.

Shiro watched him leave, going out a side door that led into an alley. Slowly, he followed after, working his way to the still closing door. He left the building, going straight to Lance. “Lance?” he asked.

He was standing with his hand braced against the gritty brick wall over a puddle of his own sick. The tie he had been wearing was dangling from his neck, untied. Shiro walked over to him, placing his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

Lance shook his head, his whole body shaking despite the suffocating humid air of the night. One of his arms wrapped around his stomach, squeezing it tightly. “Just don’t leave me?” He sniffled, wiping his nose on the cuff of his jacket. “God, I’m a mess, and you just met me tonight, and this is a lot.”

Shiro shook his head, walking closer to him. “I know what it’s like to lose family right in front of you. It’s not easy and it won’t ever be easy.” He stood behind Lance. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Lance shook his head, turning around and wrapping his arms around Shiro. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Takashi.”

Icy hands wrapped their fingers around Shiro’s throat and dug a knife into his stomach, twisting as a wave of guilt washed over him. _Murderer_ , the biting wind whispered in his ear. He hugged Lance back, trying to sap the warmth from him to hide from his conscious.

“Can we…” Lance shook his head as he trailed off. “Can we leave? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“They’re going to want to question you,” Shiro said. “The police. They’re going to ask you for a statement.”

Lance pulled away from him, looking up at Shiro with tear-filled blue eyes. “Can we go to your place then? That way they can’t find me. I can’t… I can’t go back home.”

He shouldn’t.

He _really_ shouldn’t say yes.

But he does.

He nods, ushering Lance to the front, into his car, into his home, onto his couch. And then he’s asking how long Lance wants to stay, and Lance is saying that he’ll stay as long as Takashi wants him to.

And the way he said ‘Takashi’.

And the way he pulled Shiro down with him onto the couch.

And the way their hearts were beating together as one, and Shiro _knew_ that they were because he was so close --so close-- to Lance that he could feel Lance’s heart beating away in his chest right alongside his own like soldiers marching down a street. One two, one two, one two. Perfectly in sync.

It was addicting.

“Why?”

The word broke up their march, interrupting the silence, just long enough to tear apart that synchronization and send Shiro reeling.

“Why what?”

He didn’t need to ask that. He shouldn’t have asked that. Shiro _knew_ what he was asking. It was only going to hurt Lance more. Sure enough, he winced at the question.

“Why is she…” The word **dead** hung heavy between them. “Gone?”

 _Because I did it. I did this to you, Lance,_ Shiro’s brain spoke. _Because she was an obstacle and I didn’t stop to thing of repercussions. Because I hadn’t met you, and if I had, then I wouldn’t have done this to you. Because none of these reasons will justify what I took from you._

“I don’t know,” he lied.

Lance turned to him, burying his face in Shiro’s chest, his ear right over his beating heart, and Shiro wondered if they were still marching in time despite the fraud separating them.

He cried into Shiro’s shirt again more. “I did her hair before the party. I helped pick out the dress that she wore. It was her favorite one, and I helped her with her makeup so that it matched her dress,” he rambled. “She told me not to eat too much there because after, we were going to go out to this Chinese place and have dinner. I got her a little plushie for her birthday, and she got me a season pass to this water park and I only know because she’s horrible at hiding presents.

“I-- she’s not going to… I won’t be able to give her the little stuffed animal. We were going to have a combined birthday party in three days, well I guess two days now because it’s midnight and my birthday is _tomorrow_ and I… I don’t know if I can do this.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he went on, Shiro’s shirt muffling his words.

Shiro felt physically _sick_ to his stomach as he listened, his chest getting tighter and tighter.

“I just…” Lance trailed off, shaking in Shiro’s arms. “I just want to know who did this.”

_Me._

“I just… I just want her back.”

_You can’t._

“I want everything to be okay again.”

_It won’t be._

“I want my big sister back.”

_She won’t._

“Lance…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “I need to tell you something.”

He shook his head. “Not right now, Takashi. Will you just… stay with me?” Lance looked up, locking eyes with Shiro. “Stay? Right here? With me?” He was getting closer to Shiro, his mouth parted slightly.

And Shiro should be _stopping_ him for so many reasons, but none of them came to mind right then because even though Lance had told him to _stay_ he moved forward.

Lance’s eyes closed an instant before Shiro’s, an instant before their lips touched.

And it _hurt_ to feel that guilt rise up in his throat, but it felt so good because Lance’s lips were so soft against his own, and when their cheeks brushed, tears wet Shiro’s face, and this was _wrong_.

He pulled away, and Lance followed like a stray puppy. “Lance,” he said softly, “I shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

And there was that question again. The question that he couldn’t answer. Only this time he could. _Because I killed your sister._

But then Lance was looking at him with wide, hurt eyes and he doesn’t want those beautiful blue eyes to cry anymore. He shook his head, feeling the guilt crawl up and choke him even more. “Nevermind,” he said, cupping Lance’s chin in his hand and pulling their mouths together. “It doesn’t matter.”

 _My name is Takashi Shirogane_.

He closed his eyes.

 _Leader of Voltron_.

They moved together, kissing.

_Black Paladin._

Lance’s tears stained his face.

_And I killed your sister._

And the guilt consumed him.


End file.
